798
She staked her Feathers—Gained an Arc—
Debated—Rose again—
This time—beyond the estimate
Of Envy, or of Men—
And now, among Circumference—
Her steady Boat be seen—
At home—among the Billows—As
The Bough where she was born—
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- What Shall I Do—it Whimpers So
- Death is like the insect
- Oh Shadow on the Grass
- Part Five: The Single Hound
- She could not live upon the Past